Mercy Burns (Myth and Magic 2)

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. Except for the occasional purr of an engine going past on the nearby highway and the haunting hoot of an owl, the night was quiet. I couldn’t see any other houses and there were none of the usual suburban sounds—no dogs barking, cats squawking, the rattle of street sweepers or garbage trucks doing their rounds. It would have been easy to believe that we were alone—and safe—but I knew better than that. These men—whoever they were—were dangerous, and they’d be more pissed off than ever now that we’d helped Coral escape. And they’d have to know we were involved with that—especially if they questioned the neighbors and learned that a big black dragon had been seen. The cops might dismiss the story, but our hunters wouldn’t.

I glanced at my watch and saw that only a few minutes had crept by. I sighed in frustration and shifted my weight again, wanting to feel the warmth and security of having four walls around me. Even if that security was a lie.

Another few minutes crept by, then awareness washed over me and heat prickled my skin. Damon’s shape formed out of the darkness, becoming clearer as he approached.

“That’s a very neat trick,” I said.

“And a handy one.” He wrapped his hand around mine and tugged me forward. “The house is ours, and the neighbors are far enough away that we should be able to light the fire and do some cooking. I won’t risk turning the lights on, though.”

“We don’t need lights when we have our own,” I commented. “What about my bath?”

The grin that flashed over his shoulder had my blood surging. Labeling it sexy didn’t do it justice by half. “All taken care off. I heated the water to boiling, so it should be just right by the time you step into it.”

“What about the second of my needs?” I said, then added with a grin, “And that would be food, in case you were wondering.”

His grin just grew. “Don’t worry, all your needs will be met. And the pantry is well stocked.”

Yeah, I thought impishly. Noticed that before. Even if I’d said otherwise.

We moved beyond the cover of the trees. The house was a pretty, two-story clapboard, painted a bright blue. I scanned the outside but couldn’t see anything resembling security. “Was it hard to break in?”

He shook his head. “They’ve got deadbolts on the front and back doors, and locks on the windows, but the patio door was just a plain catch. And the screen door didn’t have security mesh, just ordinary wire.”

He opened the door and ushered me inside. The room beyond was cold, but flickers of warm gold danced across the walls in the next room, providing enough light to see by. We’d entered into a large kitchen and breakfast area. I walked through to the next room and over to the fire. I might be able to create flames of my own, but there was something intrinsically satisfying about standing in front of an old-fashioned fireplace, warming the chill from your bones. I opened the backpack to check the netbook, then dropped it onto a nearby chair and held out my fingers to the flames.

But Damon caught my hand and pulled me away. “Enough with the fire,” he said crisply. “You have a carefully prepared bath waiting.”

I snorted softly, even though anticipation tightened my insides and made the simple act of breathing seem all the more difficult. “And what’s so careful about turning on a tap and heating the water?”

“This,” he said, and opened the door.

The bathroom itself was nothing out of the ordinary, but the bath was one of those huge, free-standing claw-foot things, filled almost to overflowing with bubbles. I gave him a grin and a quick kiss, then stripped and walked toward the bath. The moonlight filtering in from the window beyond gave me enough light to see by, but left enough shadows that I wasn’t overly self-conscious about my scars.

He followed and caught my hand, holding me steady as I stepped into the bath. The water was just shy of boiling, and I sighed in pleasure as the heat ran from my toes to my legs then spread out through the rest of me, warming my body almost as well as my fire did.

I slid my fingers from his, then dipped into the water, ducking briefly underneath the bubbles before letting my head rest against the bath’s end. I waved a hand, splashing water and rainbow bubbles across the tiles as I said, “You may now work your magic on my hair.”

He chuckled lightly and moved aroun

d behind me. There was a pause, then the whisper of clothes being removed. Though I hungered to see him naked, I wanted to enjoy the sensual experience he was offering more, so I just lay there and waited.

Cold liquid touched my scalp, then his fingers were in my hair, massaging the shampoo into fragrant-smelling foam. I closed my eyes and sighed in pleasure. I loved it when hairdressers massaged my scalp, but this experience was on another plane altogether.

Because this experience would ultimately lead to something much more satisfying.

He rinsed my hair then repeated the process with the conditioner, the press of his fingers against my head so wonderful that I murmured a protest when he finally stopped. He laughed softly and picked up a comb, gently sweeping away the tangles before rinsing my hair again.

“Kneel,” he commanded, his tone one that would brook no arguments.

Not that I was likely to offer any when he had me in such a relaxed state. I knelt, the water lapping at my waist, watching as he squeezed some gel into his large, strong hands. His gaze followed the droplets of water running down my body, then rose to linger on my breasts and puckering nipples. Lust stirred the air, caressing my skin as sweetly as an actual touch. Then his gaze came to mine, and the smile that curved his lips and crinkled the corners of his dark eyes just about sent my senses into overload.

“Beautiful,” he murmured. “Totally beautiful.”

“No one has ever called me that,” I said, blinking rapidly against the sudden, stupid sting of tears. Not just because of the words themselves, but because I believed them. It wasn’t a compliment thrown out casually for the purpose of lovemaking. I’d heard enough of those over the years to know when someone actually meant it.

“Then they are blind fools,” he said. “Now, close your eyes and turn around.”

I did, my breath catching as I waited for his touch, my body trembling when it finally arrived. Gently, carefully, he started massaging, beginning at the base of my neck then sweeping down my shoulders, the pressure just enough to ease away any tension that remained from a day of escapes and close calls.